


At Last

by VictoriaWoodmaine



Series: Of Consequences and Aftermaths [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaWoodmaine/pseuds/VictoriaWoodmaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doubt doth the stars are fire,<br/>doubt that the sun doth move,<br/>doubt truth to be a liar,<br/>but never doubt I love.</p><p>-Hamlet to Ophelia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be the last part of this series.  
> Here shall be sex, love and domestic bliss, but also minor crime solving and whatever the hell I'll think of while writing this...
> 
>  
> 
> I do not give permission to repost, reproduce or archive this fanfic in part or in it's entirety to any other website except with prior written consent provided by myself, nor any profit be made from any of these works under any circumstances whatsoever.

 

 

 

_'This is just the beginning, John._

_I promise.'_

Sherlock murmured into the skin of the doctor's chest.

Hair tickling his nose as he did so.  


 

_'I am happy with as much as you are ready or able to give, love._

_And if it is this for the rest of our lives then so be it.'_   


 

_'I am fairly sure I can catch up on the whole sex thing.'_

The detective chuckled.

_'Genius, remember?'_   


 

_'Yes, how could I ever forget that?!'_

John answered in mock horror, threading his fingers through Sherlock's curls as the other man's head rested on his chest.  


 

_'Genius with a newly discovered ardour for his flatmate._

_John, the possibilities...'_   


 

_'Is that what you are still going to call me?'_

John lifted his head off the pillow to look down at Sherlock.

_'Your flatmate?_

_I'm disappointed somehow, you know.'_   


 

_'Now don't be absurd, John._

_Obviously I have to get used to this-'_

He gestured along their entwined bodies.

_'-first. I apologise for any mishap, but I am not aquainted with the principle...'_   


 

_'Shut up, love._

_I know._

_I'm just teasing, sorry._

_Don't mean to be nagging.'_   


 

_'You're not._

_You are right._

_But I ask for your patience and consideration- you know this is all...rather foreign to me.'_   


 

_'Happily granted, my dear._

_Don't worry.'_   


The contented hum from the detective sent goosebumps over John's body.  


 

_'So...partner?_

_Clearly lover doesn't apply...not yet._

_Boyfriend seems rather odd to my ears._

_What do you think?'_

Sherlock lifted his head off John's chest and looked at him with round eyes, much like a child at christmas- the anticipation and the marvel of it written all over his face.  


 

_'Well, boyfriend?_

_Nah, don't think so._

_We are far from being boys anymore._

_Partner?_

_I'm not sure- people could think we are referring to our working relationship only._

_How about...'_

John was searching for a term but failing to find one he liked.  


 

_'We don't have to put a name to it._

_Not yet._

_We'll come up with something eventually.'_

Sherlock mumbled into his skin.  


 

_'Right.'_

John murmured and stretched languidly under Sherlock's weight as the other man lay half on top of him.

 

Being pressed into the mattress by Sherlock was a feeling John could also hardly find appropriate words for.  


_'I can never get enough of this and yet it's already too much.'_

He mused, while Sherlock scooted even closer.  


 

They lay for a while, neither of them able to keep any track of time when they lay together like this.

Touch, warmth, tingling feelings in every nerve-ending of every patch of skin connected.

No words required, just being together.

Breathing together.

Lost in the moment.  


 

Sherlock was the one who broke the silence, a question nagging at his mind for a long time now, ever since their first kiss.  


_'Does it hurt?'_   


 

_'Hm?'_

John was torn out of his daze.  


 

_'Sex.'_

Sherlock lifted his head and gazed up at his partner once again.

Eyes full of wonder and anxiety at the same time.  


 

_'Not if we do it right.'_

John reassured him, clearing his throat.

After a moment of uneasy silence, he spoke again.  


_'Sherlock...'_

He began, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to ask.  


 

_'None whatsoever, John._

_I am afraid you'll have to teach me from scratch.'_   


 

_'Right._

_Thought you might have...at least...nevermind._

_But you are aware of the basics?'_   


 

_'Yes. From...literature and...'_

The detective trailed off.

Unseen for John's eyes, he blushed.  


 

_'Porn?'_

John prompted with an amused smirk.

Sherlock's head snapped up in semi-mock horror.

 

_'Sherlock, that's nothing to be ashamed of._

_Everybody looks at porn at least once in their life._

_Human curiosity.'_

He placed a placating hand on the detective's cheek.

The other man's eyes closed immediately, savouring the touch.  


 

_'I...'_

He cleared his throat.

_'I have...yes...That.'_

He looked at John as if daring him to laugh.  


 

_'What did it teach you?'_

John had a hard time keeping a straight face.

Not because he thought it particularly funny, the image of Sherlock staring at his laptop with wondrous or disgusted eyes, watching two people fuck and asking himself what the point of it all was, failing to understand.

No, John knew better than to assume that Sherlock was ignorant of sex.

Working in this job it was impossible not to be confronted with it and if Sherlock was one thing, he was thorough.

Whether his 'research' had been prompted by personal interest or for a case didn't matter.

Sherlock wasn't stupid or oblivious- the answer was simple: he was shy.

And John grinned because he found it utterly endearing.  


 

Still gathering information from the vaults of his mind, Sherlock hesitated, unsure of what John expected to hear.  
  
 _'If two men engage in sexual acts they obviously have to make up for the lack of natural female lubrication by using synthetic one._

_Also condoms seem to be a necessary evil.'_   


 

_'Evil?'_

John interrupted him.

The doctor in him objecting vehemently.  


 

_'Figure of speech._

_I have no idea whether they are truly evil or not, but they do look to be quite...'_

Sherlock searched for the right word.

_'...snug.'_   


 

John snorted.

_'Sorry._

_Yeah, but they're supposed to be like that._

_But believe me, it doesn't feel...'_

He stopped, trying again to keep a neutral expression by biting his lip.

Hard.  


 

_'I...suppose it will take a lot of time until we...'_

Sherlock began, an embarrassed notion to his voice.  


 

_'No. Not necessarily.'_

John said, his voice quiet, rubbing both hands up and down Sherlocks back as he held him.

Reassuring him.

_'Don't worry, love._

_There's nothing to be ashamed of or shy about._

_We're both grown men._

_We know how our bodies function and what feels good and what doesn't and how to make that known._

_We'll get there as long as we talk to each other, Sherlock._

_It doesn't matter how inexperienced you are or how I acquired that stupid army-nickname._

_I love you and I want to make you feel that love._

_If it is through kissing or through sex, Sherlock honestly, as long as I can be with you, I don't care.'_   


 

Sherlock swallowed audibly, touched by John's statement and covered his chest in kisses in response.

Looking up with hooded eyes he whispered:

_'I will do some more intense research on the subject.'_   


 

John smiled, carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair affectionately.

_'Yes, but you forget something.'_

His voice teasing.  


 

The detective stared at his lover surprised.

What had he missed?  


 

_'I am just as inexperienced at this particular...way of having sex as you do of- well, everything._

_We are in this together, remember?'_   


 

_'Of course.'_

Sherlock replied with a smirk.

Resting his chin on John's sternum.  


 

_'Might want to have me join in on the research, we could...'_

John cleared his throat.

_'...we could validate any new aquired information immediately on a...personal level._

_Real life specimens.'_   


 

_'Experimentation?_

_Is that what you are suggesting?'_   


 

_'Basically, yes.'_

John confirmed.  


 

_'Brilliant.'_

Sherlock murmured.

His brain shifting gears already.

 

_'You know how to make me happy, John.'_

He added after kissing his chest once more and then getting to his feet, re-buttoning his shirt.

Ready for action.

Sort of.  


 

_'Yes, I do._

_Thank god I know how to please my Sherlock.'_

He said, more to himself than anyone else.  


 

Sherlock, already half way to the door, stilled, his head whipping around towards the bed.  


_'You...'_   


 

_'Yes?'_

John inquired, confused and afraid he might have spooked Sherlock again.  


 

_'You called me 'your Sherlock'.'_   


 

_'Yes. Does that...?'_   


 

_'Make me the happiest man on the planet, yes, John._

_Now come here.'_

He marched back to the bed where the shorter man was standing, buttoning his shirt as well, and slung his arms around him in a tight hug.

_'I cannot express how much you mean to me, John.'_   


 

_'Neither can I, Sherlock.'_

 

_'I am afraid I will have to stick with the old-fashioned form of expressing my true regard and ardour for you until I come up with something...better.'_   


 

_'I don't mind.'_

John reassured him with a smile.

Leaning closer still.  


 

_'I love you, John Watson...with all that I am and all that I have to offer.'_   


 

_'I love you just as much, Sherlock._

_And I can never get enough of you.'_   


 

A kiss sealed their declarations and after another brief session of reassuring cuddling and caressing one another with hands and lips they moved to the living room to start on their 'research'.  



	2. Tell me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me when it's time to say I love you.
> 
> John and Sherlock have done their research and approach sex.  
> Finally.
> 
> Sherlock's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I AM BACK ON TRACK WITH THIS STORY!  
> I'm sorry it has taken me so long, my other story but most importantly real life have taken up a lot of my time, lately.
> 
> Some might recognise the last part from my first ever fic 'Tell me' which was the inspiration for the entire series. After I had finished it, I felt like I needed the backstory to it and suddenly there I was with 'To John.' and 'How? Why?' Now the circle sort of closes with this and let's see where we go from here. Cases, domestic life and lots of love are tumbling around in my head- waiting to be written down.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing (and now correcting/adapting it)! It's fascniating to see my own progress in writing style and grammar.
> 
> Thank you again for all the lovely comments and feedback I have received over the past year (it's only a year?!)  
> You guys are awesome!
> 
> Love, Vic

 

 

 

 

**TELL ME**

 

_‘But that doesn’t make any sense!!!'_

I exclaimed and shoved at my laptop.

 

 

_‘Sherlock, look- it’s-‘_

John tried to placate.

Hands raised in surrender.

 

 

_‘No, John._

_I don’t see why you would call it a ‘blowjob’ if it is in fact an act of sucking and licking.’_

 

 

_‘Yes, well…’_

The hands dropped into his lap.

 

 

_‘Also I don’t think it would register as a proper profession.’_

 

 

_‘Oh, now you are taking the piss!’_

He bumped into my shoulder with his full weight.

 

 

_‘Clearly.’_

I smirked and kissed his cheek, getting up to refill our mugs with coffee.

 

 

_‘The internet is full of complete wankers, John.’_

 

I said over my shoulder, spooning sugar into mine.

 

_‘I mean, really._

_What’s ‘surprise buttsex’ supposed to be?_

_Even I know that such a scenario is absolutely ridiculous...’_

 

I walked back into the sitting room to find John, his face bright red, trying to hold back laughter.

 

_‘…when you obviously need lub-ri-cant…why are you laughing??’_

 

 

He finally burst into giggles, holding his sides and gasping for breath.

 

_‘The internet is full of wankers?_

_Oh my god, Sherlock!’_

And another fit of mirth ripped through his body.

 

 

_‘Yes, that’s what I said, why is that- oh!’_

And my own pun finally hit me.

 

 

 

 *****************

 

_‘Numbing lube.’_

 

 

_‘No way.’_

John protested.

 

 

_‘Why would one want to dull the sensation?_

_I’d rather feel too much than only half of you.’_

I said.

 

 

_‘You- oh, lord, you’re so amazing._

_So you want…you actually want me to…’_

John stuttered.

 

 

_‘I want you to top, yes._

_I think we’d be more comfortable that way._

_For a start.’_

I explained and stroked over his hair, stealing a kiss.

 

 

_‘How?’_

 

 

_‘Well, firstly you are used to being the penetrating partner and I…I don’t know, it’s just- when we watch these videos, I see myself in the receiving position._

_I want to know what it feels like.’_

 

 

_‘Alright._

_But no numbing lube._

_We have to be careful and I need you to be able to tell me when you are in pain.’_

 

 

_‘Obviously.’_

 

_‘Good.’_

 

 

 ***********

 

_‘John?’_

 

 

_‘Yes, love?’_

From within the loo.

 

 

_‘What is **THAT**?’_

 

 

_‘What’s what?’_

The door opened and I turned my laptop for John to see.

 

 

_‘That thing on this man’s penis?’_

 

 

He smiled sheepishly.

 

_‘Sher, that’s-, hang on.’_

And now he looked at me surprised.

 

_‘No!’_

He suddenly exclaimed and fixed his eyes on my groin.

 

 

_‘What?_

_What is it?’_

I demanded, feeling stupid.

 

 

_‘That, my love is something I want you to study on the living object, namely…me.’_

And with that he walked into the kitchen.

 

_‘Oh, and it’s called foreskin, you adorable tit.’_

 

 

I stood there, gaping.

 

 

 

 *************

 

_‘Sooooo, rim-job._

_How do we feel about that?’_

John asked, pouring more red wine into our glasses at dinner.

 

 

_‘Positive.’_

I said, chewing.

 

 

_‘Really?’_

John looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

An even odder one.

 

 

I put down my cutlery.

 

_‘Why is that- alright._

_You expect me to find it unsanitary.’_

 

 

I stated the obvious.

 

 

_‘Well, yeah._

_To be honest.’_

 

 

_‘You are eating dinner composed of ingredients that have been resting next to human remains in our fridge._

_You didn’t say a word about the urine samples in the-‘_

 

 

_‘Don’t. Remind. Me. Of. The. Urine. Samples. Darling.’_

 

 

_‘Sorry again.’_

I murmured, truly meaning it.

One of my less enlightening experiments.

 

_‘But seriously, John._

_You have a meticulous body hygiene._

_Any traces of faeces that could-‘_

 

 

_‘Okay, stop right there.’_

John leaned back in his chair, index finger raised in protest, appetite gone.

 

 

_‘It’s biology John._

_You keep telling me these things._

 

**_''It’s just blood._ **

**_It’s piss._ **

**_It’s semen._ **

_**It’s natural''** _

 

_I don’t understand how you can be ignorant of human excrements._

_It’s degraded bio-matter._

_Some animals instinctively-’_

 

 

_‘Oh, fuck, please stop!_

_Alright._

_We’ll try it._

_Just don’t want to think about turds during dinner._

_Bio-matter my arse.’_

And he picked up his fork again.

 

 

_‘Exactly.’_

I said and bit off my bread.

 

 

 

 *********

 

_‘Alright._

_Sherlock, we are going to the shop.’_

 

 

_‘You go, I’m busy.’_

 

 

_‘No, **WE** are going to **THE** shop.’_

He said and winked at me.

 

 

_‘Oh.’_

I closed my laptop.

 

 

 

 **********

 

_‘This?’_

 

 

_‘No.’_

 

 

_‘How about that?’_

 

 

_‘No!’_

 

_‘John…’_

 

_‘Sherlock, these are absolutely alright._

_As much as I hate to say this to another bloke, and, well, about myself, but neither of us needs jumbo.’_

 

 

_‘But-‘_

 

_‘Snug is what you want, honey!’_

 

I obliged.

And slung my arms around John from behind as we stood at the check-out.

 

 

_‘You called me ‘honey’.’_

I murmured into his ear and kissed the side of his neck.

 

 

_‘Yes.’_

He whispered and presented his neck to me, eyes falling closed.

 

 

The cashier smiled at us.

 

 

 

 

 **************

 

_‘John, I was wondering…’_

I asked tentatively.

 

 

_‘Yes?’_

He was cracking eggs into a bowl.

 

 

_‘Do you…erm?_

_Do you…?’_

 

 

_‘Spit it out, my love.’_

 

 

_‘Romance, John._

_What are we going to do about that?’_

I leaned in the doorway to the sitting room, feeling foolish and uncertain.

 

 

He turned around, putting down his utensils, looking at me with an adoring smile on his face.

 

 

_‘I think it’s obvious that I enjoy it when you tell me that you love me, or compliment me, or just look at me like that.’_

He pointed in my direction.

 

_‘But you don’t have to do it all the time._

_When you feel like it, yes._

_But not because you think I’d be unhappy if you don’t._

_It’s enough to feel your hand at the small of my back occasionally, or on my shoulder or- I don’t know._

_You don’t have to say it with words, I suppose._

_Well I don’t NEED words._

_To feel you curled around me when we sleep- really it’s all I could wish for.’_

 

 

I gulped.

A bit overwhelmed.

Of course he saw it.

 

 

_‘Come here.’_

He gestured with open arms.

I complied.

It was wonderful.

 

 

 

 *************

 

_‘Can you- just once- **NOT** be such a stubborn arse?!’_

John yelled and marched into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, so that I couldn’t follow.

 

_‘I mean, yeah, we caught that bastard, but did you have to jump right after him into that tank?_

_So that I had to jump in after you to get your bony arse out safely?_

_It was a sewage plant, Sherlock!’_

 

 

_‘Sorry.’_

I murmured, and dripped muck onto the hardwood floor.

 

 

 

 *************

 

_'John!'_

I yelled, throwing my door open and stalking out.

 

 

_'What's wrong, Sherlock?'_

He leaned back in his chair, so that he could have a better look down the hallway, towards my bedroom.

 

 

_'John...'_

My voice was soft now.

I didn't want him to think there was something wrong.

I intended the absolute opposite, didn't I?

 

_'John, I...'_

 

He looked at me expectantly and curious.

 

_'I'm sorry...for...before. I...I...'_

 

 

_'Sherlock...'_

He said and got up from his chair.

It took him two steps to place himself in front of me.

That didn't really help.

That he looked at me with big, blue, innocent eyes, telling me it was alright and that he understood my awkwardness and that it was all fine, didn't help either.

 

 

_'You need to understand...'_

 

 

_'I do-'_

 

 

_'No._

_I don't think so._

_I...please…Let me...explain._

_I looked up some poetry._

_Well, a song that should help to make you understand how...'_

 

I trailed off.

 

John just waited.

He knew me so well.

God, my heart throbbed even harder.

I took a deep breath and started to recite the song:

 

 

**_‘Words get trapped in my mind,_ **

**_I'm sorry if I don't take the time to feel the way I do._ **

**_But since the first day you came into my life_ **

**_my time ticks around you._ **

****

**_But then I need your voice_ **

**_as a key to unlock all the love that's trapped in me._ **

**_So tell me when it's time to say I love you._ **

****

**_All I want is you to understand_ **

**_that when I take your hand_ **

**_it's because I want to._ **

**_We are all born in a world of doubt,_ **

**_but there's no doubt_ **

**_I figured out_ **

**_I LOVE YOU._ **

****

**_I feel lonely for_ **

**_all the losers that will never take the time to say_ **

**_what is really on their minds,_ **

**_instead they just hide away._ **

**_Yet they'll never have_ **

**_someone like you to guide them and help along the way,_ **

**_or tell them when it's time to say I love you._ **

****

**_So tell me when it's time to say I love you.'_ **

 

 

I finished by taking his left hand into mine.

 

_‘I think I'm ready.’_

I said, looking into his eyes from underneath my lashes.

And he knew, he instantly knew what I was talking about.

 

 

_'Sherlock...'_

John looked at me, his mouth hanging open.

 

 

_'No need for words, is there, John?'_

 

 

_'Sherlock...'_

He started again, then trailed off.

 

 

_'Help me, John._

_Please?'_

I finally whispered, bringing my face close to his.

 

 

Our breaths mingled between our faces, our foreheads touched.

 

 

Yet, it was not enough.

It was never enough.

 

 

John closed his eyes, lost in the moment.

So I mirrored him and closed mine, too.

 

 

I will never be able to get over the sensation of feeling John Watson on my skin.

 

Never bothered to care for human touch, though I knew it was enjoyable.

But John...

John was different.

In so many ways.

He was better.

He made _me_ better.

 

 

He shifted.

Inching closer.

His arms wrapped around my waist and again I mirrored his movement and pulled him close.

Pressed him against my chest.

Heart pounding and all.

I sucked in a breath at the sensation of his entire body- his warmth and smell so close to me- I never wanted to let go again.

 

 

I tilted my head a little closer to his face- our lips almost touching.

 

 

Oh, the delicious, sweet little torture of 'almosts'!

 

 

_'Sherlock...'_

John said my name once more.

 

 

I didn't respond.

Waited.

Took another breath.

 

 

_'Now...'_


	3. Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't say no, when you ask so nicely ;)
> 
> As previously mentioned, this is the adapted version of 'Tell me' so to some it might be nothing new, sorry.  
> I think I'll be posting chapters daily because of this and continue with new ones as soon as I can get to write them.  
> Cheers!

 

 

 

...Now.

Time is a curious thing.

How one’s perception of it changes, depending on the state one finds itself in.

It had been a long time since I last experienced time to pass at such a slow pace.

I remember it as the day I found my father sitting at his desk in his office.

Dead.

With a gun wound to his head.

It was then that I last felt time to be something so relative.

So unimportant.

Almost reachable by hand as if you could just lift your arm and drag your fingers through it like water in a fountain.

Something that is there, can be observed, but not kept.

 

I wish I could have kept _this_ moment.

Fill it into a flask.

Store it away on the shelves of my laboratory to keep until the day I pass.

As a reassuring presence for all those times that I lost my faith.

Which has happened quite some times in the past.

When I saw my father for the last time on the day of his funeral.

Saw my mother cry, the heartbreak in her features.

How lost she looked upon that day.

When I realized that I would never fit into the society that is considered normal.

When I gave up on the thought of another human being, apart from my brother, to actually bother asking me how I was.

What I thought.

What I felt.

 

I wasn't been born the cold, heartless and impolite bastard that I know I appear to be.

But time has had its effect on me.

I used to fight against it.

Eventually I gave up.

And became a person trying to never make the mistake again to actually care for something or someone.

Because inevitably I would get hurt.

Be abandoned.

Called a 'freak'.

I used to live quite well that way.

Losing myself in work and studies.

Going on and on and on, never stopping, because whenever I stopped- everything came crashing in again.

 

And temptation and I were old acquaintances, but our collaborations never turn out well.

 

Science, Music, Memories.

These are the only three entities that have ruled my life for so long.

Until the day that I examined paint chips from a wooden ladder in the laboratory at St. Barts and a man walked in, leaning on his cane, eagerly offering his phone to me, not knowing who I was and what he had gotten himself into the moment he reached inside his pocket.

Now it was Science, Music, Memories and John.

 

 

Now- I stood in front of this man, my arms tightly wrapped around him.

Our mouths as close as was possible without actually touching.

His breath ghosting upon my lips.

I was buzzing with anticipation and shivering from the adrenaline that my body was pumping relentlessly through my bloodstream.

From the depths of my kidneys, spreading through my heart and into every little capillary vessel of my body.

 

Oh, what a sweet sensation!

 

This was when my perception of time changed again for the first time in so many years.

The world slowed down into a slow motion of blurred colours and light.

Faint noises.

Muffled screams inside my head.

For the first time in years.

Finally.

 

Everything that happened after this moment is stored in my mind palace for the small eternity that is left of my lifetime.

The first gentle touch of John Watson's lips on mine is always a feeling that makes me feel as if I might combust from pure and utter bliss.

 

Like elementary sodium in a gentle summer rain.

 

Soft.

A little self-conscious.

Knowing.

Experienced.

The light pull of flesh as he drew away for the fraction of a second.

Giving me time to process what was happening.

He knows me so well.

 

Returning.

Again, softly pressing his mouth against mine- always, as if he could find something there- something vital and important.

I leaned in closer.

He lightly sucked on my lower lip.

I exhaled loudly.

And then blushed.

 

_'Oh, Sherlock.'_

He whispered.

 

_'There's no need to be embarrassed._

_It's lovely to know that you like it._

_Best praise in the world.'_

His forehead never lost contact with mine.

I could feel the words on my lips as he spoke them, we were so close.

 

 

_'This is... Overwhelming._

_John, I don't know how...'_

 

 

_'Shhhhh._

_My dear._

_It's alright._

_I know._

_I know what you are trying to tell me._

_I know._

_Trust me.'_

 

 

_'I never did otherwise, John.'_

 

 

_'And that's one of the reasons why I love you._

_There's no need to be afraid,'_

he caressed my cheek.

Our eyes meeting.

 

_'all the time in the world, right?_

_No one is telling us what to do or when._

_We go at our own pace._

_A pace that is comfortable for both of us._

_We will explore this together, remember?'_

His round blue eyes ever the source of reassurance.

 

 

'Alright.'

I smiled.

And got a grin in return from my doctor.

 

 

_'Jesus, Sherlock._

_Your face- it’s so remarkable._

_How is it possible that there is so much skin- when you laugh… your eyes…and yet your cheekbones are so prominent?_

_I have always wondered about that.'_

He chuckled and looked at my face- mesmerized.

 

 

_'I suppose my facial anatomy inevitably had to be just as extraordinary as the rest of me.'_

 

 

_'Was that you being funny?'_

He smiled.

 

 

_'Was it that bad?'_

I furrowed my brows playfully.

 

 

_'No._

_Not at all._

_Just unexpected._

_It's a rare thing- you taking the time to make a funny remark._

_Except when Anderson is around of course._

_Or Sergeant Donovan.'_

 

 

_'John?'_

 

_'Yes?'_

 

_'Please do not mention them again when we are just about to have sex._

_Or almost sex._

_That…that remains to be seen.'_

 

 

He stared at me blankly, his mouth hanging open.

Then he literally burst out laughing in such a delightful manner, it would have been a crime against nature not to join in.

Not that I hadn’t felt the urge to laugh myself anyway.

  
It took us both some moments to calm down again.

But eventually we did.

And business got serious again.


	4. A Rush of Endorphins

A rush of endorphins.

My chest heaving with deep breaths.

It hadn't even started yet, but my body was already thrumming with anticipation.

Instinctively taking over before I could even consciously grab hold of the situation.  


 

I am a healthy human adult male, so the biology of sex is nothing completely unfamiliar.

Yet I dare not say it had been of any importance to me before now.

Expectedly, I have a basic understanding of my own anatomy.

My first daybreak erection had occurred at the age of fourteen and of course I had been slightly upset about it.

But since I couldn't ask my father for advice anymore and my older brother Mycroft had sort of abandoned me when he had left for University two years earlier, I had had no choice but to resolve the problem myself.

  
The animalistic curiosity every human inherits when it comes to pleasure had let me know what to do.

The soft weight of my duvet as it lay on my groin.

The ever so light friction whenever I moved my legs.

It's an addictive sensation that drives you on for more and more and while you lose yourself inside of it completely- oblivious to time or your surroundings, your mind narrowed down to the one thing your entire body is craving- like a starved animal in bloodlust- you still retain a kind of consciousness that no other drug on the planet will grant you.

The ability to snap back to serious reality in but a few seconds only, giving you the chance to flee and survive potential danger, is a unique evolutional gift that makes the entire experience so worthwhile and precious...

 

You get high enough on it to forget your own name as long as it lasts, but not as high as to not be able to consciously savour every precious moment of it and to experience it with an almost vulgar intensity.

  
  
My memory of this particular morning when I was fourteen is slightly blurred.

I suppose the sensory input is to blame for that.

All I can recall is an overwhelming feeling of joy when I placed my fingers lightly onto my own skin.

And then again.

And again...

  
I found myself in the same breath-deprived state now, some twenty years later- only that it weren't my fingers but John's and they were resting on my cheek and not on my groin.

Not yet.

 

I had achieved orgasm before.

Seventeen times to be precise.

Always in moments where I found myself in a state of emotional disarray and was in need of distraction or had to shift my focus on something...simple.

Yet I never sustained such an addiction with it as I did with other more vicious drugs.

Drugs that brought a foreign rush of chemokines into my system.

Chemicals my body couldn't comprehend or my brain was unable to process.

The resulting 'nothingness' in my head as it went blank like a hard drive on overload, was always a happily welcomed change to the almost constant mayhem that is my every waking moment.  


Compared to them, I learned on that very first occasion, that the same sensations caused by orgasm only last for that little amount of time until my breath slows down, my heart rate becomes normal again and the adrenalin, serotonin and oxytocin vanish from my bloodstream.

Not this time though.

  
This was different.

John Watson as he dragged his fingertips over the skin of my cheek, down my neck (my neck! How surprisingly sensitive?) and onto my heaving chest.

 

  
_'Dear god...'_

He whispered.

_'...thank you...'_

 

  
I stared at him blankly.

My brain was already halfway shut down.

The most precious but at the same time tedious part of it all.

I love the silence that spreads within me, but it makes me stupid.

And I detest that.

 

Fortunately, John knows me better than anyone else.

He's constantly getting better with his observational skills on cases.

What he's really brilliant at though, is his almost frightening sense of understanding me.

 

So he spoke- so that I didn't have to ask.

 

  
_'...for letting me live to see this._

_Feel this.'_

His hand moving upwards again.

He stared, wide-eyed.

Marvelled.

 

_'Sherlock, you've got goosebumps on your neck.'_

 

  
A quick burst of thoughts.

I never heard that one could get them in this area of the human body.

Like your wrists.

Was that even possible?

Had I missed something?

Did I need data on that?

Was I completely out of my mind??

 

A sexually very experienced army-doctor was moments from ripping off my clothing and giving me my first thorough orgasmic experience ever and I was dwelling on goosebumps???

  
Sometimes I feel like stepping out of my skin and slapping myself right across the face.

 

  
_'It's obviously the effect you have on me when you do this.'_

I said with a hoarse voice and pointed to his other hand on my left pectoral muscle.

Resting over my heart- as if trying to get a hold on it.

Like he didn't already have...

 

 

_'Well, if that is so- I wonder what happens when I do this.'_

And with that he bowed his head, leaned in and started to lightly, ever so lightly kiss my neck.

I literally shivered with pleasure.

 

John's lips might be small.

Thin compared to mine (which are ridiculously plush, thank you mother) but they are so...divine.

An adjective I never dared to use before.

Not before I met John.

Superlatives are far too overused.

But somehow only they do him appropriate justice.

 

  
He pressed his mouth onto me and began to suck- only for the sweet little moment until his lips lost contact with my skin and only to come back a tiny bit more to the left, to the right, up to my ear.

This is where I found myself curling my toes inside of my shoes, trying to seek hold on the steady floor of our kitchen.

The wet softness of him just below my earlobe.

Another rush of cold adrenalin spreading inside my chest.

Beautiful.

 

I opened my mouth and moaned like a whore.

Or at least what I expect a whore to sound like judging from the telly advertisements I sometimes see at four in the morning when no one is there to notice that I actually **do** enjoy watching tv sometimes.

  
This- my moan however encouraged John to take the lobe of my ear between his lips and poke and lap at it with the tip of his tongue.

I nearly reached orgasm right there and then.

How curious?

 

  
Him, sucking on my ear, breath from his nose ghosting across my over-sensitive skin, his hand resting on the crook of my neck just below, the other one placed on the back of my head, fingers playing with my hair.

 

How utterly curious.  
  
And then he moaned.

And I lost control.


	5. Need

John's lips.

John's tongue.

John's fingers.

  
As I stumbled backwards my brain had seriously become the closest to stupid I have ever been.

What a delightful change?

He slammed me against the door of my own bedroom.

The handle digging into my back.

It hurt.

It would certainly bruise.

I didn't care for the love of god.

 

_'John?'_

 

He 'hmmmphd' at me.

Trying to be some sort of human ear bud judging by the enthusiasm with which his tongue teased my ear.

I made a mental note to return the favour later.

Because.

it.

was.

wonderful.

  
As odd as it was.

 

 

_'I'm sure it is in your personal interest as my doctor to tend to possible wounds of mine._

_Am I right?'_

 

 

_'Hmmph._

_Certainly._

_Why are you asking?'_

Suddenly the all concerned clinician, he regarded me closely.

 

 

  
_'Because I think I obtained a bruise on my back just now._

_I think it would only be appropriate for you to check on it.'_

 

 

  
_'Sherl...'_

His eyes darting to my torso and back up to my face again.

 

 

  
_'Oh, right._

_Very good._

_Roleplay._

_You are trying to get me to take your shirt off._

_Well done.'_

He pecked me on the cheek with a smug smile.

 

 

  
_'John?'_

 

  
_'Right here.'_

Eyes shining with mischief.

 

  
'I love it when you do that, you know.'

 

 

_'Alright._

_Good._

_I'll take a mental note of that.'_

He leaned back in.

 

 

  
_'Please don't.'_

And I meant it.

What was the point of it if he did it on purpose?

Wasn't love supposed to be spontaneous?

 

_'I want you to do it whenever you feel like doing it._

_Not because you feel obligated to do so.'_

 

 

He caressed my cheek.

And looked at me with a very stupid 'you are a miracle' sort of grin.

 

_'You are a miracle, you know?'_

He whispered.

 

 

I grinned just as foolishly.

Oh, let's be stupid together like this.

If I shall ever die because of some idiotic thing I do- please let it be this!

 

 

_'For a man who has no idea of all of this, you are saying so really romantic things without being aware.'_

Another kiss to my cheek.

 

 

I purred.

And closed my eyes.

He was so good at this.

  
_'You are brilliant, John Watson.'_

 

 

_'Please, call me doctor.'_

And with that he started to suck on that particular point just below my ear again.

 

 

_'Oh doctor._

_Tell me what's wrong with me.'_

My head thumped back onto the door in a fake victorian swoon.

 

 

  
_'You are an arrogant git.'_

He let go and looked at me.

His eyes telling that he was only teasing.

Probably.

Probably not.

Whatever.

I know it's true.

 

_'But you are **MY** arrogant git and you let me do this. _

_I still can't quite believe it.'_

 

 

  
I was going to have a neck entirely covered in love bites by tomorrow morning.

Something I looked forward to very much.

Obviously John loved to claim me.

Other people shall notice and realise that I belong to him.

Oh, John.

 

  
_'I surrender myself to your expertise, doctor._

_Please take proper care of me.'_

I whimpered playfully.

 

He devoured my mouth.

So I did it again.

Not so playful anymore, but in earnest.

 

 

_'You are seriously driving me crazy, Sherlock.'_

 

 

  
_'Good.'_

 

 

_'I want you.'_

 

 

_'Then take me.'_

 

  
The noise that he made in response was one I will always recall in moments of doubt.

It was the noise of Doctor John Hamish Watson placing his heart into my clumsy hands and taking mine into his safe ones in return.

The moment where I realised that I would never, in my entire lifetime let this man go again.

Because I needed him.

I needed him so much.


	6. Flesh

Flesh.

Human flesh.

Gloriously bare and soft and warm and...salty.

 

Of course I already knew that it would taste like that, but still I was surprised that John would taste so very different than me.

Naturally, throughout the course of my life, I had happened to lick my own skin.

More often when I had been a child.

Chocolate or icing (my sweet tooth was strongly developed early on).

My own blood.

  
Never did it taste as delicious as this:

Manly.

 

 

Not that I wouldn't be a man.

Or smelled like one.

If I couldn't help it.

But I consider a strict body hygiene necessary- for me at least.

John however-

John could just as well never shower again for all I cared- I would lick him clean.

 

 

In the beginning of our relationship I used to be startled at such desires surfacing from deep within me.

I was not familiar with such passionate behaviour lying underneath my own conscious perception.

I suppose my never-ending curiosity did a great deal in helping me finally break free of the chains that I had laid upon myself so long ago- unaware as it may have been.

 

But it was an epiphany of the greatest kind to finally experience this now- and John to be there at my side as always- being the sole reason for those feelings- so intense that I

never seize to be overwhelmed with it.

 

A lifetime to spend with John Watson has become more important to me than any case could ever be.

 

  
  
Now I was in the middle of returning the favour of nibbling on his neck.

It turned out that he was just as sensitive there as I was.

  
John meanwhile, was occupied with (rather blindly) trying to open the buttons of my favourite purple shirt.  


Admittedly, I gave him quite a hard time from what I could tell of his moans.  


His moans!

What they do to me!  


I had observed that my heart rate had accelerated at that very first physical contact between us.

  
Our first kiss.

  
I remember thoughts like:

 

Good lord?

  
I just had my first kiss?

  
With John?

  
In our kitchen?

  
On a wednesday?

 

to chase each other inside of my brain and I couldn’t have cared less for their scientific unimportance or their sentimental nature.

Sentiment is a part of me now.

And I embrace it as happily as I embrace John while we sleep.

  
As long as this doesn't stop, I honestly have no need for my brilliant mental abilities.

 

All I could think of at this particular moment, was John's skin under my lips.

My fingers searching hold in his hair.

The smell of him.

I experienced all this with my most primal senses.

There was no need for it to be processed and analysed and picked apart.

It was far too precious for that.

There would be a time, surely, but the memory would have to do.

  
Now was the time to devour.

  
And devour we did.

 

  
He had finally freed me of my shirt and I subconsciously recognised a light chill at the sudden loss of contact with the satin.

But then there were fingers.

Incredibly soft and gentle fingers gliding up and down my chest, over the roundings of my shoulders and onto my back.

 

  
_'Christ.'_

I hissed into John's neck.

 

  
_'Like that, do you?_

_Sherlock._

_You are so beautiful...'_

 

  
_'I happily return that compliment, doctor.'_

I nudged at the hem of his jumper.

I would never look at it the same way as before.

But then again- I would never be able to look at John the same way again.

Or the entire flat.

Or myself.

 

For a moment I panicked.

Pure autistic panic.

 

Stilled at the thought of so many things changing now.

For good.

So many ways I could fail.

Mess this up.

Lose John.

I trembled.

 

  
_'Sherlock._

_Please don't.'_

John said with a sigh.

 

  
I snapped back to reality.

_'What?'_

 

 

_'Don't leave me out._

_You are worried about something._

_Tell me._

_Please.'_

He placed his hands on my bare shoulders.

 

 

Practically that was all I needed.

And still...

  
_'DAMN MY BRAIN!'_

I shouted.

 

He drew back.

Suddenly let go.

 

NO! No, no, no!

 

_'Sorry!_

_I...John, I’m sorry._

_I...'_

 

 

_'Easy._

_I know._

_I know..._

_Look- I'm here._

_I'm not leaving._

_Not unless you want me to._

_If you want me to stop, then...'_

 

 

  
_'NO!'_

I shouted again.

What a horrible thought!

My greatest fear ever since that day I returned.

 

 

  
_'That's exactly my problem, John._

_I'm afraid that this won't end well._

_I will mess this up._

_And then you will leave me and I don't...'_

I didn't dare to look into his eyes anymore.

_' I don't know if I will be able to deal with that.'_

 

 

  
_'For fuck's sake, Sherlock!'_

He got mad at me.

Exactly what I had expected.

 

_'Stop talking such bullshit, you idiot!'_

Okay, not exactly what I had expected.

_'Will you- just this once- stop overanalysing and just LIVE?_

_Stop thinking you will mess this up._

_I'm perfectly capable of doing that as well!_

_Look at how successful I have been in my relationships, dear god!'_

 

  
I stared at the hands in my lap.

Suddenly feeling eight years old again.

  
Then John placed his warm hands on mine.

Oh, god...

  
_'Sherlock, the single cause of all of our arguments is your selfishness!_

_When you lie to me, no- when you don't let me in on something._

_When you just don't think about the consequences your behaviour will have._

_All that goes back to you closing in on yourself, locking yourself in your mind palace trying to sort things out on your bloody own!_

_We have been there, remember?'_

  
I twitched violently at the memory.

  
_'But you can't do that anymore, dear._

_Please don't._

_Don't leave me out on your worries or concerns._

_That's the only way I can help!_

_I don't want to see this end- **if** it ever ends, god forbid- and know that I could have done something but just didn't get the chance because you didn't let me. _

_Please not again.'_

 

  
There was a pause.

A long moment where I could hear John's heavy, upset breathing and the perception of myself shatter.

 

You idiot.

  
I finally looked up and into his eyes.

I wrapped my hands around his.

Stared.

Stared at him for what felt like an eternity, but only mere seconds in reality.

Then I did what I had learned to do as a child, whenever I had to apologise without words.

Because I was not allowed to speak.

  
I bowed my head in a submissive gesture and leaned forward until my forehead touched John's shoulder.

 

  
_'I am sorry.'_

I whispered against his shirt.

 

  
_'Shhh.'_

Was all he said.

It was all that I needed.

  
I could feel the sting in my eyes.

And I was shocked about the intensity of my emotions.

So many confusing feelings.

  
_'Help me, John.'_

 

  
_'Honesty, Sherlock._

_That's the key._

_Tell me what you think and that you want to be left alone and I will let you._

_Because I will understand._

_Tell me what you feel and I will try to give advice, because I will probably understand that a bit better._

_Tell me what you need and I will go and get it- make it happen._

_Because I will understand._

_Just don't leave me in the dark._

_I can't always tell from the look in your eyes what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours.'_

 

 

His hand came up to rest on the back of my head.

Pulling me closer.

_'Please, Sherlock._

_Respect me as what you clearly want me to be- your friend and your lover._

_Your brother in arms._

_Your guide and your...'_

He looked for the right word.

 

  
_'Everything.'_

I whispered, my voice cracking.

So overwhelmed with emotion.

 

He pushed me back so that he could look at me.

  
_'Can't you see, John?'_

I pleaded.

A bit.

 

 

  
_'Oh, Sherlock..._

_I'm sorry._

_I didn't think..._

_I forgot what this must feel like for you._

_This is your first...your very first and...oh, my god.'_

He looked at me in horror.

He shouldn't do this.

I never wanted him to look at me like this again.

 

  
_'Stop talking.'_

  
Now he looked stunned.

Which was better.

 

 

  
_'I am being honest, John._

_I am scared._

_You know me better than I do myself sometimes._

_You know how capable I am of fucking this up and right now- this is so intense and I said I’m ready, I know, but…_

_And just the mere thought of losing you- what we have- is simply unbearable for me._

_I try not to think about it, but you know how my brain works._

_I particularly hate it right now.'_

 

  
John stared.

His eyes as soft as I had never seen them before.

  
He reached out the same instant that I did.

Leaned in.

Sighed .

Our foreheads touched.

 

  
Friction.

  
Good.

  
Physical contact as reassurance.

  
Brilliant.

 

  
_'I solemnly swear that I will be honest from now on and not let anything get between us._

_Not ever again.'_

I whispered.

 

  
_'I solemnly swear to do the same and be patient and understanding of your lack of confidence and your…inexperience._

_I will be your tutor so that one day you won’t have a single thing to worry or be insecure about.'_

 

  
_'John?'_

 

_'Yes?'_

 

 

_‘Are we ready now to continue as planned?_

_I found the bloodrush to my southern regions quite pleasant and it’s-.'_

 

  
_'Oh you...'_

And suddenly there was that fire in his eyes again.

_'You have no idea...'_

 

  
_'Tell me._

_But without words.'_

I closed my eyes.

Happily awaiting what he would do next.

 

  
I gasped.

Because John Watson- brilliant doctor and soldier- placed a steady hand right onto my groin.

 

  
Touch.

Warmth.

Peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm a bad girl, I know.


End file.
